


We Live a Lie

by HewerOfCaves



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arda Remade, Gen, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HewerOfCaves/pseuds/HewerOfCaves
Summary: Fëanáro didn’t remember much from Arda Marred. No Elf did. He supposed neither did the other kindred. After all, remembering past hurt and suffering would not make for a perfect world.Arda is remade and everything seems to be perfect...





	We Live a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very busy with real life, but this wouldn't leave me alone, so I scribbled it down and decided to post. Not beta'd, not a native speaker.

The Treelight, soft and warm in Tirion, was almost too bright so close to Ezellohar. Fëanáro stood and basked in the light, his eyes half-closed. Around him, the festival went on. 

He could stand like that for hours, unbothered by the heat, his mind reeling with new concepts and ideas. Unconstrained by the drawbacks of Arda Marred in this new world, where everything was flawless, his imagination could fly to heights previously unknown. 

Fëanáro didn’t remember much from Arda Marred. No Elf did. He supposed neither did the other kindred. After all, remembering past hurt and suffering would not make for a perfect world. At times, a dull pang from another life made itself known, but he drowned it in work and in the love for his family.

It was for the love he bore for his family that he shook his head and turned his back to the light, walking down the hill to the valley where the festival was held. King Ingwë was supposed to arrive soon, and Finwë would want his son to greet his old friend. 

Nerdanel looked at him quizzically, but he just shrugged. His wife smiled. She understood well the wanderings of a creative mind. Often, nowadays, she disappeared in the great carven halls of the Dwarves, teaching and learning. Curufinwë and his son joined her sometimes.

Taking Nerdanel’s cool hand in his, Fëanáro stood to the right side of his father. Their sons were all around them, standing tall and proud. Fëanáro reached for Morifinwë, who was the closest, and squeezed his shoulder. His son gave him a sheepish smile. It chased away all thoughts of Arda Marred that were starting to trouble Fëanáro. What did it matter what had happened then? That world was gone and here he was living a happy and fulfilling life with his family. 

Finally, Ingwë appeared with his retinue. As usual, Fëanáro felt a shade of absurd resentment creep into his heart when he looked at them, so he turned his gaze away. His father was standing, joy on his face, ready to embrace the King of the Vanyar and his kin. Nerdanel was staring at him. His eldest had that absent look in his eyes he got often enough that sometimes it worried Fëanáro. He took a step towards Nelyafinwë and touched his arm discreetly. His son started and looked at him in surprise, as if he was expecting someone else. Fëanáro frowned, but there was no time to discuss it, as Ingwë and Finwë exchanged heartfelt greetings and embraces. Fëanáro followed his father’s example. He bowed to Ingwë and inclined his head in response to Ingwion’s salute. The Vanyarin King and Prince went ahead and Fëanáro found himself face to face with the ladies.

He kissed the hand of Ingwë’s Queen and barely stopped himself from grimacing when doing the same with his sister.

“Lady Indis,” he said stiffly.

“Prince Fëanáro,” she replied with a forced smile.

She pulled back her hand as soon as she could, then she and her husband went to greet Míriel the Queen.


End file.
